


On Days Like This

by septiceyesweetheart



Category: CrankGameplays - Fandom, markiplier - Fandom
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Miscarriage, Romance, Touring, you're welcome tour
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-09
Updated: 2018-03-21
Packaged: 2019-02-12 10:41:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 21,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12957486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/septiceyesweetheart/pseuds/septiceyesweetheart
Summary: Between March and October of 2017, Bella Santiago can proudly say that she has accomplished a lot. She’s in a happy and healthy relationship with her honey, Ethan. She has more control over her anxiety than she’s ever had in her life. She’s taking on more opportunities and projects, like starting her own line of makeup brushes, travelling around the country for conventions, and even going on Markiplier’s You’re Welcome Tour with her friends and boyfriend. Her life has been a bit more hectic, but she is happy. But what will she do when she goes through a challenge she’s never faced before? Will she let it threaten everything she’s built up, or will she power through?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> will their story every end??? man idk i just wanna write ethan and bella forever  
> this is also on tumblr if u prefer to read it there (sweetnestor)

Leave it to me, Bella fucking Santiago to get sick the day we leave for tour. I mean, I saw it coming. I’ve had anxiety/travel sickness before. Unlike the rest of the group, this was my first time being on the road for an extended amount of time. Of course I was nervous. Of course I was panicking and even throwing up over the thought of sharing a confined space with a bunch of people, half of which were strangers. 

 

Since I had missed the shows in June due to mental health issues, it was important that I went to this one. I had a big part in writing the script (or, the bits and pieces that weren’t improv) and I needed to be there. Not only that, I had been helping Mark with his singing and guitar playing since he started practicing earlier in the year, and he wanted me to sing with him onstage.

 

I wasn’t used to being so busy. I liked it, though. It distracted me from the oncoming anxiety attacks. Well, I usually had those at the end of the day, and it’s not like I had a choice over when I would get these attacks, but I preferred it that way. At least I wasn’t acting up in the middle of a meeting or rehearsal. Ethan was always there to calm me down too, so I wasn’t alone. I wasn’t suffering in silence anymore, and I was still getting used to that.

 

Anyway, I had been dreading the tour thing and sharing a bus overall, but the actual nausea didn’t start until we had flown to Kentucky. Literally, the moment we landed (oh yeah - I went on another plane) my stomach got all grumbly and gross. I threw up in one of the airport bathrooms. Twice.

 

Mark and I practiced our singing nonetheless, just like we had been rehearsing at home. We were actually going to sing together on stage. Of course, each of us got our own solos, but for most of the set, we were going to duet. I was crippled with anxiety over that too, so I had to make a beeline to the nearest toilet or trash can every so often. Thankfully, it didn’t disturb my singing ability too badly, but it was still a bit concerning to the people around me.

 

“Think you’ll be okay before our first show?” Mark asked me when we were in my hotel room. We had been busy with other tour stuff, so we took whatever chance we had to rehearse our set.

 

“I’m drowning myself in chamomile and Pepto,” I replied, pointing to my cup of tea that was on the coffee table.

 

“Tour starts in two days, though. And you’re already…” he trailed off.

 

“A mess,” I finished for him. “I know. But I don’t think it’s a big deal if I end up having to miss the set. The audience is there for you, anyway.”

 

“Yeah, but I need you there,” he told me.

 

So I kept going. For the next two days, I was either singing or sleeping. Me being me, I also got a visit from the red dragon the night before the very first show. That was the same night we all had to get on the bus and sleep on the ride to the venue.

 

The bunks on the bus were practically coffins. Thank god I wasn’t claustrophobic. I couldn’t properly crawl into a ball the way I normally would when the time of the month hit me. All I could do was sleep facing the wall (Ethan claimed the only bunk with a window) and hope that the cramps would be gone in the morning.

 

Well…

 

I woke up to more overwhelming nausea. Maybe that was due to taking painkillers late at night on an empty stomach. I was lucky enough that I didn’t actually blow chunks until we were off the bus. The second I stepped off, I ran around near the fence and coughed up my insides. Ethan quickly followed my trail to help me, but he was noticed by fans. That kinda sucked.

 

Vomiting and bleeding didn’t indicate that something was horribly wrong. I blamed it on stress, anxiety, and menstruation. Sure, the cramps got a little more intense and even spread to my lower back after I puked in one of the venue’s bathrooms, but I was fine overall. It was nothing I couldn’t handle. I even managed to hold down some pieces of toast and two more painkillers by the time I had to rehearse with Mark.

 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked me as he tuned out his guitar. “You don’t have to do this.”

 

“You said you needed me,” I reminded him.

 

“I spew out a lot of bullshit,” he said, waving it off. “If you’re really not okay, you can sit this one out.”

 

“I agree,” said Ethan from the doorway. I didn’t even realize he had been listening. “You really don’t have to do this.”

 

Honestly, it would be an absolute miracle if I sang my heart out on stage without throwing up. But I didn’t want it to stop me. I had come all this way, mentally preparing for this plethora of events, only to be stopped by some tummy grumbles? No. Not in this lifetime.

 

“It’s just the nerves,” I justified with a shrug. “After I get the first performance done, the nausea will go away.” Of course, I could feel what little food I had consumed threaten to come back up just as I said that.

 

Ethan approached me and placed his hand on my shoulder. “Hey. I love you. But you don’t look well.”

 

I placed my hand over his. “I love you too. And I’m fine.”

 

“Can you do your warm ups without vomiting?”

 

He knew me too well.

 

“No, yeah, let’s do that,” Mark said. “If you can get through our warms ups, then you can perform tonight.”

 

What am I, fifteen? Incapable of making decisions for myself? Okay, yes, I threw up into the trash can after three scales, but at least I took the initiative to haul my sick ass back onto the bus for some peace and quiet. I decided to stay there for the rest of the morning, and it wasn’t just because the pain in my lower abdomen was getting more intense. So intense, in fact that I groaned in agony once I was alone on the bus. I wasn’t even sure the sleeping bus driver heard me.

 

I hunched over slightly as I stumbled through the vehicle. The nausea was now overpowered by the pain in my pelvis. At least I wasn’t throwing up anymore…

 

Being in my bunk didn’t help at all. It was too small and cramped, but I had nothing else. Plus, I was experiencing quite the heavy flow, and the sofas in the ‘lounge area’ didn’t deserve that. I just dealt with rolling around in the tight space, hoping to sleep off whatever this was.

 

Knowing me and my luck, I figured out what it could possibly be. The pain got worse the longer I stayed curled up in my bunk, and it only confirmed my thoughts even more. At one point, I was rapidly tossing and turning, hitting the back wall with my fist in order to cope with it. I was breathing so hard, I couldn’t tell if it was due to the pain or a panic attack. The room spun every time I opened my eyes, so I couldn’t grab my phone to text Ethan that I was getting worse. I had a scary idea of what was going on, I just had to tell someone.

 

“Help…” I croaked out, but then I felt another sharp, shooting pain in my lower abdomen. “Ahh!”

 

My fingers scraped against the wooden edge of my bunk. I kicked the bottom of my feet against the end of the small space. I cried out some more as it got more and more excruciating. When I finally heard footsteps, I stuck my hand outside the tiny cubicle, hoping to flag the person down. I was relieved to see that it was Kathryn.

 

She squatted down so she was peering into my bunk. “Are you okay?”

 

I shook my head. “I think…” I groaned. “Miscarriage…”


	2. Chapter 2

“Bella,” Kathryn said in shock, “you can’t be serious. Are, are you sure it’s not just your period? Are you even bleed- _oh my god.”_

 

I had been curled up with my eyes squeezed shut until her tone changed. I looked up, despite how much the room spun, and saw her looking at my lower half in horror. My hips moved slightly, but I heard and felt something wet and squishy. Christ, I was lying in my own blood. And parts of a fetus. I was in far too much pain to panic.

 

“Okay,” she continued as she properly sat on the floor. She was trying to remain calm. “Okay, I’m going to call 911. But first I’m gonna text Ethan and get him over here because I know I’m going to be on the phone for a while.”

 

I noticed her hands shaking as she typed. I decided to keep my eyes closed.

 

“Hello? Yeah, my friend is having a miscarriage, a-and I…” she trailed off. “Uh, hang on.” Then I felt a hand on my arm. “How long have you been in pain?”

 

“Last night,” I replied in a strained voice. “I’ve been bleeding all day.”

 

Kathryn repeated the information to the dispatcher. “Yeah, she’s bleeding a lot. She’s crying from the pain, she’s been vomiting for two days. She’s wearing pants -”

 

“- and a pad…”

 

“- and she’s bled through all of it. W-We’re at Palace Theatre in Louisville, w-we're in a bus at the back of the venue.”

 

I heard footsteps go around the bus as she continued speaking. I tried to focus on what she was saying, but then another wave of sharp cramps hit me, and I kicked some more. It was getting more and more intense the longer I stayed here. I wasn’t sure how long more I could handle this. I whined in agony and rolled onto my back.

 

“Stay on your side!” Kathryn frantically told me as she hung up the phone. “You won’t bleed as quickly!”

 

“Where’s Ethan?” I asked miserably.

 

“I don’t know,” she said. “This would be the worst time for him to ignore his texts.”

 

“Go find him…”

 

“I’m not leaving you here by yourself!”

 

“Kathryn!” called a voice, but not the one I needed to hear.

 

Amy came into view, or her legs did from where I was lying. Kathryn quickly slid the curtain on my bunk so it shielded my lower half. “Have you seen Ethan?”

 

“Oh… was that text for him?”

 

“Shit! Can you go find him?”

 

There was a small pause. “What’s going on?”

 

“Go get him!” I hysterically cried as another painful cramp blinded me.

 

That sent Amy practically running off the bus. Kathryn held my hand and rubbed my arm as I cried and groaned. I just wanted to be put out of this misery. Why was this happening? Why me? Why now? Of all times this had to happen, it had to be now. Beginning of the tour. It was humiliating.

 

Soon enough, I heard more footsteps on the bus, and several voices. Amy had returned, but not just with Ethan. I heard Mark’s concerned voice, I heard Dan and Tyler, too. Panicked question, calls of my name. More people than what was necessary. Oh god.

 

“Bella!” Ethan called, and I opened my eyes once again.

 

He sat down on the floor next to Kathryn, who had scooted over but didn’t let go of my hand. Ethan moved the curtain to the side, and his concerned expression turned into shock.

 

“Holy _shit…”_

 

He sat there, frozen. I couldn’t blame him, really. It was a mess, I was sure of it. Everything was a mess.

 

Kathryn wordlessly passed my hand to Ethan, who couldn’t stop staring at me. It took him a moment, but he snapped out of it and held my hand in his. He looked at my face instead of the blood and he stroked the side of my sweaty face.

 

“I-It’s okay,” he told me, his voice shaking. “I-I-It’s gonna be okay…”

 

“Guys stay back!” Kathryn told everyone else as she stood up. “The paramedics will be here any minute! It can’t be this crowded!”

 

“Paramedics?” Ethan softly repeated. He looked up at her. “W-What’s going on?”

 

Another string of sharp pain hit me. It was going in cycles now, if this was exactly what I thought it was. I squeezed Ethan’s hand and tried not to scream out in this bus full of people. Ethan moved closer and stroked my hair, trying to be soothing. It was too intense, I felt like I was going to die.

 

If actual birth is anything like this, I want to part of it. Ever.


	3. Chapter 3

The doctors and nurses were so sympathetic, it was kind of sickening. Obviously, they didn’t know our situation, most of them assumed we were newlyweds grieving the loss of our baby. That was probably because I was crying uncontrollably once I was conscious again. It was an anxiety thing, Ethan had to make that known the nurses.

 

I wasn’t really sure what happened once I was put in the ambulance. Maybe I passed out. Maybe I panicked so hard that I blocked it out of my memory. All I knew was that it was still the same day, except now the sun was going down. The show would start soon, and it made me cry more. One nurse deemed that I was “in hysterics” and that if I didn’t calm down after a certain amount of hours, I’d be admitted to the psych ward.

 

“She has generalized anxiety disorder,” Ethan explained. “She’s just overwhelmed.”

 

“Does she take any medication?” the nurse asked.

 

“No.”

 

“Alright. The doctor will be in shortly to go over more things with you.”

 

How many more times was I going to be in the hospital before it finally kills me? If it wasn’t for a suicide attempt, it was a goddamn miscarriage. Not only that, this was the second time in the same year that I’ve gotten pregnant. I didn’t even think that was possible. How could I have been so stupid?

 

“Bella,” Ethan tried again once we were alone in my hospital room. He had shed his own tears earlier, now he just wanted me to talk to him. He scooted his chair closer to my bedside and placed his hand on mine. “Did, did you know you were pregnant? Is that why you’re not saying anything? I won’t be mad…”

 

I kept my head turned away from him. I wasn’t sure why I couldn’t tell him anything.

 

He rubbed my fingers with his thumb. Then he moved my hair out of my face, which only made me tear up more. I heard him sigh, and then,

 

“Skin… heat…”

 

_ Fuck. _

 

“Hair in your mouth…” he softly sang, “feet touching feet, oh you… and I…”

 

Ethan let go of my hand so he could get on the bed with me. I was crying a little bit more now, so I curled into his chest as he continued singing.

 

“Safe, from the world, though the world will try…”

 

It was comforting and cathartic. Ethan rarely sang around me, but when he did, it was when I really needed to hear it. I felt small and safe in his arms, I just wanted to stay like that and forget everything else. It didn’t fix anything, but it was soothing and it helped get the worst of it out of my system.

 

I was finally calm enough when a blonde woman in a white lab coat entered the room. She was vaguely familiar, her perky face wasn’t something I was used to, given all the serious expressions I had been receiving since being here. Her voice was familiar too.

 

“Remember me?” she asked. “I’m Dr. Stevens, I performed your surgery. I just want to go over everything we did, and where to go from here. Is that okay?”

 

I nodded, and Ethan kept his arm around me.

 

“You were twelve weeks along, so we had to perform a dilation and curettage, or a D&C,” Dr. Stevens explained. “What that means, is that you had an incomplete miscarriage and we had to expel the tissue from your uterus. Everything went smoothly, you should have a very quick recovery. You might even be out of here by tomorrow.”

 

That was relieving to hear. I couldn’t bear to miss any more of the tour. I didn’t want to be stopped by this little setback.

 

“Will she be able to get on a plane by tomorrow?” Ethan asked, much to my surprise. “We’re not from here, we came from California.”

 

“And why would I go back?” I asked a little too defensively. Yup, that was the first thing I said to him after hours of tearful silence, and after that lovely serenade.

 

“You  _ just  _ had a miscarriage,” he responded, gesturing towards the bed we were sitting on.

 

“Recovery time from a D&C is only a couple of days,” said Dr. Stevens, who seemed a little taken aback by our moods. “You’ll be free to go tomorrow, Ms. Santiago, but don’t strain yourself too much.”

 

“So I can go back to what I was doing before?” I asked. “I can travel, and I can sing?”

 

She nodded. “You should be just fine. Just don’t put too much stress on yourself. I understand you have an anxiety disorder. Were you under a lot of stress prior to this?”

 

That was when I hesitated. It’s one thing to have a miscarriage, it’s another thing for me to unknowingly and inadvertently cause it from my inability to relax.

 

“She gets travel anxiety, and we’re doing a stage show all over the country for the next two weeks,” Ethan spoke for me. “She gets panic attacks, and she’s always tense.”

 

Well, damn. 

 

“I see,” the doctor said. “Well, it’s as I said, you should be fine by tomorrow. Just take it easy, get some rest, and do what you have to do to calm your anxiety.” She offered us a smile. “Alright?”

 

I nodded. “Okay.”

 

With that, Dr. Stevens left the room. That only prompted the upcoming snap from my boyfriend.

 

“You can't keep doing this,” he said seriously.

 

I looked at him, taken aback. I wasn't sure why I was defensive. “What, like a miscarriage is gonna stop me?”

 

“I just don't think you should get right back into tour,” he told me.

 

“It's only the first day! And speaking of tour, what time is it? You could probably still make the first show!” I insisted.

 

Ethan chuckled, but I could tell he was annoyed. He got off the bed and sat down in his chair. “Yeah, like I'm gonna leave you here alone. I already tweeted out that I was gonna miss it.”

 

My heart pounded. “What did you say exactly?”

 

“That you were sick and I needed to stay with you. No one seemed to ask any questions, they only sent well wishes.”

 

It still made me nervous. I wanted to see what was being said online, but I had left my phone on the bus at the venue. I wanted to know what the crew were thinking. I had to know if Kathryn told them what had happened since she was the only person I had told, and Ethan hadn't found out until we were here. The thought of returning to the tour with all of them knowing I bled out a fetus was almost unbearable. On top of that, I did not want to go back to Los Angeles either. 

 

“We still have tour in January,” Ethan said, sounding less annoyed. “You could go to that one instead. I'm sure everyone will understand.”

 

Those words coming out of his mouth just made my blood boil. Why would he suggest something like that? I scoffed, unable to form words for a moment. 

 

“And go back home alone?” I asked rhetorically. “And be miserable and lonely like I was last time?”

 

“I can go with you, if that's what you want.” His tone was gentle, but it only made me angrier. 

 

“I want to stay here! I want you to stay here! Do you think a silly little miscarriage is going to make me go insane? Is that what you think of me?”

 

Ethan sat back in his chair, now fuming. He scrolled on his phone to avoid talking to me anymore, while I graciously flipped through the TV channels. I was able to find a rerun of  _ Grey’s Anatomy,  _ which only made Ethan leave to the cafeteria. He might as well have gone back to the venue.

 

~

 

The next morning, I was discharged. I only had some cramping, which was perfectly normal (at least that’s what I told myself to ease the anxiety.) I could handle some cramping. Dr. Stevens reminded me to take it easy and not to strain myself too much. Just one day, and then I was free to go back to my usual involuntary clenching.

 

One of the show producers had called Ethan earlier that morning to tell us which bus line to take because for some reason (arrows pointed at me) they couldn’t get a personal driver. Yes, a charter bus full of strangers would be a much better fit. Can’t pick and choose my anxieties all the time, I suppose. It was still better than flying home by myself. That morning, Ethan and I got on a bus to Akron, Ohio.

 

This particular venue had two shows, one of which was in the early afternoon. Ethan would be missing that show, and I would miss my acoustic set. We were five hours away and on public transportation. He missed two shows because of me. Why did this have to happen?

 

I didn’t have my phone or my sleeping pills, so you could imagine the fun I had on the bus ride. Ethan told me every so often that I could still get on a plane to LA if I wanted to, and that wasn’t helpful in the slightest. Why replace one anxiety with an anxiety that was accompanied with crippling loneliness? I also noticed him Googling everything he could about recovery time from a miscarriage, despite everything Dr. Stevens had told us. I was perfectly capable of carrying on with the tour, and Ethan was starting to make me feel like I wasn’t.

 

“Hey,” he said after a while.

 

I had been staring out the window, trying to cling to my sanity as the bus moved. I took a deep breath and turned to him.

 

“Did you know you were pregnant?”

 

“I would have told you if I knew,” I grumbled like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

 

“What would you have done this time if you knew?” he asked.

 

Growing more agitated, I shrugged. “Same thing as last time. What else?”

 

Ethan didn’t say anything, but he kept looking at me. He leaned in closer to me, lowering his voice. “You were twelve weeks along.”

 

“I know. So?”

 

“That means you got pregnant in July,” he continued, keeping his voice lowered. “We didn’t have sex in July.”

 

It took a moment for my brain to process what he just implied. I chuckled in disbelief and annoyance as I looked at him. “Yes we did.”

 

Ethan shifted in his seat like he was about to mansplain me. “No we didn’t. July was when… I wasn’t feeling okay, so we didn’t have sex, remember?”

 

“It was for half the month,” I argued, getting infuriated but keeping my voice at a harsh whisper. “I remember because we had an anniversary - which you forgot - and we didn’t even celebrate it. It was the last two weeks of July.”

 

For some reason, that wasn’t convincing him. He sat back, deep in thought. He didn’t even hear me.

 

“Did you notice any symptoms? You weren’t throwing up? Your period was normal?”

 

I rolled my eyes. “I don’t have to explain myself-”

 

“Yes you do,” Ethan deadpanned. “You got pregnant at a time where we weren’t doing anything. What am I supposed to think?”

 

My hands clenched into fists. Lord please help me not yell at my boyfriend on a crowded bus.

 

“I’m on the pill,” I told him, not sounding any less angry. “Maybe I missed a couple of days - I do that. And we were traveling all over the place! D23, Indy PopCon, Vegas, PAX West, Maine, Orlando… Of course I was gonna get nausea from the anxiety of traveling! Of course I was gonna be so stressed that it messed with my period! What are you trying to say?”

 

He sat back with no response. Yeah, that’s what I thought.


	4. Chapter 4

Ethan and I missed a grand total of two shows. At least he got to perform the night we arrived to the Akron Civic Theatre. I couldn't sing until the next afternoon, and I really wanted to sing. I needed to sing. I also wanted to down a bottle of wine in one go, but I couldn't have that either. Had to earn my 4 month chip when we got back from tour, after all.

 

I tried to keep to myself as much as I could, but that was hard given the amount of people that worked with us. While the guys were onstage, though, it was pretty quiet in the green room. I was curled up on the couch, deep in my phone now that I had it back. I tweeted out my appreciation for those who were concerned. I also reassured them that I was perfectly fine to go on with the tour without telling them what exactly had happened. There were other people in the room, like Molly, Mandy, and Day, but they were in their own conversation. For once, I didn’t mind coming off as rude and staying quiet when they walked in the room. I just stayed focused on my phone.

 

That was a good way to act like I didn’t notice those three, along with other members of the crew watching me. Of course, upon arrival to the venue I got that sympathetic head tilt and the borderline condescending “how ya doing?” from practically everyone. Don’t get me wrong, it was reassuring that I was cared about, but the attention was aggravating. The more attention I got, the harder it was to forget this whole fiasco. Besides, the people that did know about the miscarriage didn’t really know how to react, give that the dead baby’s parents were generally unfazed by the events. We just carried on like normal, despite the awkward tension. Honestly, it really was a shitty way to kick off the tour. Way to set the mood, Bella.

 

There was a TV on the wall opposite to where I was sitting. It was playing the show, and it made me glad I hadn’t gone home. Here, I had things to keep myself busy. I helped Amy and Kathryn put together the VIP backpacks and screen the improv prompts from the audience. Tomorrow I would start singing. At home I had nothing, and having nothing meant I would go crazy and probably relapse. That would just cause more problems, and I already created enough commotion.

 

My eyes darted back to my phone when Kathryn and Amy entered the room. Their presence meant the show was almost over, and then there would be more people in the room. I took a deep breath.

 

Amy sat next to me. For a moment, that was all she did. But then, she placed her arms around me and pulled me into a side hug. She squeezed me once and let me go.

 

“Glad you’re back,” she said simply.

 

Mildly startled by the physical gesture, I looked at my lap. “Thanks.”

 

“Glad you’re not dead,” Kathryn added.

 

“Same.” I paused and then looked up. “Thanks for calling the ambulance and stuff…” My tone was stiff and borderline reluctant, but that was because I wasn’t sure how to properly express that gratitude.

 

“No problem.” Kathryn sounded just as awkward, but we left it at that anyway.

 

Eventually, the guys ended their show and came over to the room. I smiled and celebrated with the group. I gave Ethan a hug and a kiss, despite that he was really sweaty and that things were still rocky between us. No one needed to know that, though. We all pretty much stayed in the green room while everyone took turns showering, and then we were on the bus by two in the morning.

 

I was pleased to discover that my mattress and blanket were replaced while I was gone. No sleeping on a dried up fetus for me. I wanted to say that out loud, but quickly realized how dark it sounded. Too soon. Besides, I wasn’t sure who knew exactly what happened. Best to keep to myself.

 

~

 

“What was it like?” I asked Mark the next day.

 

We were in a private room at the venue: Rosemont Theatre in Rosemont, Illinois. We were rehearsing our set together alone before rehearsing onstage. Tonight was my first time singing on stage in front of people. I would have been crapping my pants had I not almost bled out on the bus. Things like that change your perspective a little bit.

 

“Well, I was more nervous than I had ever been,” he explained as he mindlessly strummed his guitar. “I actually started with The Man With No Shadow because I was freaking out so much. But after the nerves pass, it’s incredible. The audience has been really amazing and understanding so far. You’re really gonna like it.”

 

I nodded and bit my lip. My anxiety nausea was threatening to make a comeback, but I kept drinking my weight in chamomile. Not only that, I couldn’t shake this feeling of despair. Luckily, I had my healthy coping mechanism here.

 

“We’re starting with Give Me Love, right?” I asked.

 

“Yeah, you sure, though?” Mark replied with some uncertainty. “It won’t be too much for you?”

 

“I’m fine,” I told him. “And it would be better if I wasn’t treated like a fragile little bunny, okay?”

 

Mark held up a hand in surrender. “Got it. Don’t hold back.”

 

It was cathartic when it was just the two of us. On stage, in front of my friends and the crew, it was a little intimidating. So intimidating, in fact, that I couldn’t hit my high notes in any of our songs. Dan had to guide me through them, and we all had to pray I wouldn’t falter during the set. This was way different from just singing in my bedroom.

 

When the time actually came, I wanted to shit myself. I made frequent trips to the bathroom as the VIP audience took their seats. The third or fourth time I left the backstage toilet, Ethan was waiting for me by the door. I felt like a deer in headlights in front of him due to the nerves. Also, we hadn’t really spoken to each other that day, given that our argument on the bus didn’t exactly get resolved.

 

“Babe,” he said sympathetically, “are you-”

 

“Shh!” I hushed as I hysterically flapped my hands around. “Don’t talk about it. I won’t think about it til it’s over.”

 

Ethan nodded. “Okay. Can I hug you?”

 

I shook my head, averting eye contact. I did, however, silently hold my hand out.

 

Graciously, Ethan squeezed my fingers. He kept looking at me and slowly pulled me in closer, but I couldn’t return the contact. It felt especially weird because from the ride to Akron up until now, things were quiet between us. Still, he was here and I wasn’t sure why.

 

“You don’t have to do this, you know.” There it is.

 

I let go of his hand. “Thanks for the support.”

 

“Hey, that’s not what I meant.”

 

“You don’t just say things like that!” I snapped, my voice shaking.

 

“You just got out of the hospital!” he reminded me in an equally unhappy tone. “You had surgery! You almost bled out on the bus!”

 

“That doesn’t make me weak! I’m not broken!”

 

“I didn’t say that!”

 

“You didn’t have to! I’m singing, I don’t care if it kills me!”

 

Ethan sighed. “Don’t say things like that…”

 

I rolled my eyes and went back to the wings. I was kind of glad I didn’t see the look on his face; I knew I had upset him. But I needed him to understand.

 

It was hard to tell if the surrounding people were acting like they heard any of what just happened. It was weirdly tense, though, but I had to shake it off.

 

“Can we do the sad one first?” I asked Mark as I took my place next to him.

 

“Which one?” he replied.

 

“Last Kiss. It’s easy, it’ll get the nerves out.”

 

“Alright.”

 

All sound was muffled as we stepped onto the stage. I couldn’t even see, but I still made it to my microphone stand. Mark was on my left; I think he greeted the audience. I think I said something in response too. The only thing I heard after that was Mark strumming our first duet.

 

From there, I closed my eyes and let it happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i forgot to upload these last two chapters here oopsies  
> check out my tumblr sweetnestor, theres another fic up there that revolves around ethan and tom holland, i may just post it here though


	5. Chapter 5

Whaddup, I’m Bella, I’m 25, and I fucking cry for a living. No seriously, the second I left the stage to let Mark do his solo cover, I fucking lost it. I made sure I was completely away from the wings and then I crouched down and cried. Hard.

 

Almost as soon as I was down, someone with baby pink hair came and picked me back up.

 

“You did great,” she said in a gentle, soothing voice. “Come on, let’s go backstage okay?”

 

I was unbelievably and ridiculously incoherent as she walked me to the green room. I just couldn’t stop the tears, I knew I was being irrational. Was I going to sob after every performance? Was this tour going to consist of my mental breakdowns? Or was it just hormones coming down from my dead bun in the oven?

 

Finally, I was sat on the couch, and a familiar set of arms went around me. Without even thinking, I leaned into his shoulder and cried some more. I heard whispers of “is she okay?” and other things, but I’d be embarrassed about it later. I couldn’t really do anything except cry.

 

“Aw, babe,” Ethan soothed as he rubbed my back. “You did really good. I’m real proud.”

 

It was amazing, yes. The nerves got to me, but it happened after I did the thing. I did the thing. It doesn’t matter how I did it, as Helena told me, it’s the fact that I did it. Yes, I kept my eyes closed. Yes, my hands were visibly shaking. Yes, I was now a hysterical mess. But I did the thing.

 

Once I composed myself, I sat up and wiped under my eyes. Mascara stained my fingers, and probably my face too. I didn’t make any eye contact with anyone, I just kept my eyes on the floor. I knew who was in the room judging by the voices; Dan, Tyler, Bob, and Wade. Ethan and Amy were on either side of me.

 

“You know,” Amy said as she stroked my hair, “Mark cried the first time he performed too.”

 

“Really?” he sniffed.

 

“You did amazing,” Ethan reassured. “And it’s obviously different than what you’re used too. You’re okay.”

 

I nodded, wiping away more tears. Now that I was calming down, I was starting to realize how unreasonable my crying was. Jesus Christ, why was I such a drama queen?

 

Not long after I composed myself, Mark emerged from the stage, guitar in hand. We made eye contact and shared smiles of disbelief. We both felt the exhilaration.

 

“Did you cry?” he asked knowingly.

 

I shrugged. “Just a little bit.”

 

“Did you like it, though? Singing on stage?”

 

“Hell yes.”

 

“Really?” Ethan asked me, sounding shocked. “After the crying? And the nervous shits?”

 

Here we go again.

 

“But I still did it,” I told him. “And I wanna do it again.”

 

He was quiet, which didn’t sit well with me. Did he not want to sing? Was I fragile in his eyes? Incapable? I would have spoken to him about it, but privacy was hard to get in a place like this. I had to let it go for now.

 

~

 

 **@bellasanti:** _I was so goddamn nervous that I looked really sad haha! Donut worry I had the best fucking time singing for yall ❤_

 

I was surprised by the positive feedback online. My followers were extremely understanding, which took a lot off the nerves. It was quite different from my surrounding environment. Wade, Dan, and even Mark had asked if things were okay with me and Ethan, and that was just by the way I sang onstage. I mean, things were… weird with me and my boyfriend, but I didn’t let it affect my singing.

 

Following the Rosemont show, things were quiet between us. When I was asked about the singing thing and the hospital by one of the crew members on the bus, I made a snide comment about how I was perfectly capable of handling myself. Ethan moved seats upon hearing that. However, we reassured those concerned that everything was fine. No one needed to get up in our silly relationship issues. Besides, it had only been just that day. One whole day of silence.

 

Sure, I was exhausted after spending the whole damn day around people. That was expected of me. Yes, I shut myself away in my bunk once I had the chance. I’m Bella Santiago, it’s what I do! So tell me why I got a text from Ethan, who was sitting with everyone else at the front of the bus.

 

_ “Come join us! :(“ _

 

_ “I’m tired,”  _ I replied, rolling over in the tiny space. I plugged in my headphones to block out the external noise.

 

_ “How tired? It’s not that late, and the bus isn’t even moving yet,”  _ he sent back.

 

I left him on read and decided to scroll through Twitter instead. I liked some tweets, some pictures from the acoustic set. I responded to some people. It almost got my mind off things until I got another text.

 

_ “You’re ignoring me…” _

 

I scoffed.  _ “My fragile little body needs rest,”  _ I typed, but then I deleted it. Instead, I sent,  _ “I’m going to sleep. Goodnight.” _

 

Then, I made sure to keep my online presence as invisible as possible until I was actually ready to sleep.

 

I thought that would be the end of the mini text battle, but alas. Like I said, privacy was impossible to find. The next morning, I woke up to another spiteful text.

 

_ “So… you never slept with anyone else, right? The baby was actually mine?” _

 

It was difficult to keep in my annoyed groan. Everything was just really fucking annoying at this hour. That was how today was going to be, I suppose. Maybe it was the fact that I was now in another timezone, which fucked with my sleep, and now I had no concept of time. Nothing mattered, not even the fact that my fucking boyfriend was accusing me of being unfaithful.

 

_ “Lol we were together for every single day in july,”  _ I sleepily but angrily typed back.  _ “Except for you know that one day you ignored me and all your friends and went completely off the radar. Where were you that day?” _

 

I’m not one for pulling receipts unless it was absolutely necessary. Like I would forget Ethan’s suspicious behavior from a few months ago. And he was the one pointing fingers? No mames.

 

After sending that message, I felt the massive bus lurch to a stop. Then, I heard the mattress above mine shift, followed by some angry footsteps. Rise and shine, chulo.


	6. Chapter 6

Around noon (if that even exists), I found out we were in Pittsburgh. It felt like it had been ten years since the miscarriage, yet at the same time it felt like it had been only an hour. Time is weird. Oh, and I also discovered that you can get motion sickness in reverse. Getting off the bus and not feeling any kind of movement made me as well as three other people feel nauseous.

 

I was sat in one of the dressing rooms, trying to use my phone despite the unsettling dizziness it gave me. I put it down when Mark entered the room for our rehearsal. He sat down when I stood up.

 

“You okay?” he asked.

 

“I'm great,” I replied, looking at my reflection in the vanity. My hair was in desperate need of a wash, which wouldn't happen until tonight. I felt gross.

 

“I'm feeling kinda sick today, so bear with me,” Mark told me, watching me through the mirror.

 

“Bus movements?” I guessed as I mindlessly parted my hair down the middle. 

 

“Yeah. Anyway-” he strummed his guitar once. “Ready?”

 

“Can we start with F.U.?” I asked. Yes, I managed to talk Mark into singing a Little Mix song.

 

“Why? Because it's sassy and angry and exactly what you're feeling right now?” he playfully mocked.

 

I started to french braid my hair as I scoffed and rolled my eyes. “You don't know anything I'm feeling.”

 

There was a small pause. My eyes trailed to Mark through the mirror, and he was looking right back at me.

 

“I know you’ve put on a strong face for the show and everything,” he told me, “but you don’t have to do that in front of me. We’ve known each other for years, if something’s wrong-”

 

“I'm fine,” I said shortly, but then I felt bad. “Sorry. I don’t mean to be snappy. But the more I delve into the singing and everything, the easier I can put off the feeling of bleeding out in my bunk.”

 

There was another awkward silence that was quickly interrupted by my phone dinging on the vanity surface. I shut my eyes and tried to cool my temper. I knew who that was. “I can braid and sing. Can we do this?”

 

He gave me one last look before we started our warm ups.

 

Ever since it was brought up after the hospital, I couldn't stop thinking about July. Yes, it was three months ago, but was it ever truly resolved? There was something Ethan hadn't told me, and he wasn't good at hiding it. He had been acting so strange and secretive, and I couldn’t help but think the worst.

 

_ “All damn night, I was here waiting _

_ Cooked your favorite, dressed up real nice _

_ I know you were with her _

_ I know that you kissed her” _

 

Singing is therapeutic. I was glad I could showcase some of that with my close friend and an audience. It was less fun when my boyfriend walked in looking… concerned, if you will. All the more reason to sing passionately.

 

Mark was unfazed as he sang his line.

 

_ “You're dirty, disgusting _

_ But I can't get enough of your loving…” _

 

Ethan was followed by Kathryn; She nearly knocked into him at the doorway. There was a sense that she had chased after him. Still, I kept singing and avoided eye contact, feeling quite petty and bitter.

 

_ “You sweet talk me again, yo _

_ I don’t wanna be friends, no _

_ Why am I such a fool when it comes to you? _

_ A, B, C, D, E-E-E, F U” _

 

It reminded me of the time where he kept asking me to sing for him, this song in particular rather than our song, “Intertwined.” Said this one suited my voice more. He would practically smother me in affection, and it followed him into August. Getting me gifts, spending more time with me, almost like he felt guilty for something and was trying to make up for it…

 

Interesting. Also, stupid of me to not see the signs.

 

“Did you guys need something?” asked Mark when we finished the song.

 

“No, we were looking for Dan,” Kathryn replied as she nudged my boyfriend’s arm. “Come on…”

 

Ethan nodded at her request, but his eyes were on me. “Keep your phone on.”

 

With that, they were gone.

 

That last thought in mind, I stopped mid-braid and grabbed my phone. I read the message I purposely ignored…

 

_ “I’m sorry. Please don’t be mad at me. I don’t want you to stress over this, we’ve been through enough lately. I love you.” _

 

Rolling my eyes, I sent back the magical letter that pisses everyone off. But I also followed up with a heart to seem less detached. How dare he tell me to keep my phone on when he couldn’t even answer my texts half the time? Although, during the next song Mark and I rehearsed, my phone started dinging with texts. Honestly, I was starting to care less and less if I made Ethan angry or hurt. I had to know what happened in July.

 

“Should we take a break?” Mark asked between songs. “Sounds like someone really wants to talk to you.”

 

“No,” I replied, finishing my first braid. “Let’s do Sign of the Times next.”

 

~

 

The crew always hung out in the green room, a small room - depending on the venue size - with some sofas, a mini fridge and a personal bathroom. There were a lot of us: the 5 main stars of the show, 4 of their significant others, some of their editors, and the endless number of the tour crew members. It was a lot to handle. The room felt crowded and stuffy a majority of the time.

 

Naturally, I went to the bus when it was too much. I tried to be in the same room as Ethan while we argued over text, I really tried, but it was getting harder to read his face while he sent deflects to my questions. That, and the amount of people made me feel like I didn’t have enough air to breathe. There was also the option of one of the guys’ dressing rooms, but I was only in Mark’s when we did a private rehearsal, and Ethan wasn’t talking to me face-to-face. So I had security walk me out to the bus.

 

Aside from the sleeping driver, there was someone on the vehicle when I got there. I walked up the steps, hearing some commotion. I froze for a second, then internally rehearsed how I would walk past whoever was in here to get to my bunk. But when I did walk in, I found Tyler sat on the sofa, hunched over. I wouldn’t have thought too much of it, had he not looked like a deer in headlights when I came into view.

 

“Help me,” he said breathlessly.

 

“What’s wrong?” I asked, as I stepped closer, feeling a bit wary.

 

Tyler did a series of hand motions, like he was trying to get his point across. His breathing was staggered too, and he had a frantic look in his eyes.

 

“Okay, okay, slow down,” I said as I sat on the coffee table across from him. I extended my arms out to him. “Here, take my hands and squeeze my fingers.”

 

He complied fairly easily, although I did underestimate his strength. But I braved through it given the circumstances. I talked him through his wheezing and stuttering.

 

“Slow your breathing,” I instructed. “Focus on me: what do you need right now?”

 

“I…” He let go of my hands and sat back, hyperventilating. “A-Am I dying? I think I’m gonna die, I-I’m h-having a heart a-attack!”

 

“No, no, you’re okay,” I reassured. “I know how you feel. It’s really scary, but I promise, it’s gonna be okay. You’ll come out of it soon. Squeeze my hand again.”

 

His breathing wouldn’t ease up. I felt a little helpless. Very helpless. Nothing was working.

 

Eventually, he was able to ask for water, and for me to just sit with him. He wheezed some more, cried for a little bit, and let go of my hand. I could take a little guess at what he was feeling; It was usually how I felt after a panic attack.

 

“Of all the people to walk in on me,” he spoke after a while, “I’m kinda glad it was you.”

 

“Does… has this happened before?” I asked gently. “I mean, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want-”

 

“Every day since we left for tour,” Tyler admitted. “You’re the only person who stayed long enough to figure out what was going on.”

 

I straightened up a little more. “You mean, someone would see you hyperventilating and they wouldn’t do anything to help?”

 

He shook his head. “That was the first time it happened like that. Usually I’m just sitting here with my heart pounding and sweating like crazy, stiff as a fucking board. If I can talk, I tell them I’m okay.”

 

“So you haven’t told anyone else, then?” I asked.

 

“I’d like to keep it that way.”

 

Well that sounded oddly familiar. I already knew the consequences of keeping it all to yourself. I knew it was bad, I knew it led to other bad things. But I also knew exactly how Tyler felt when it came to breaking down in front of people, and talking about how bad the feelings were. It was embarrassing once reason came back to you. You sit there and wonder why you lost your shit for a few minutes, unable to explain any of it. Because of that, people look at you like you’re a freak, or like you’re broken.

 

“Okay,” I said. “I know it’s cliche, but if you need to talk about it, or anything at all… please come to me.”

 

He nodded. “Thank you.”

 

I sat with him in silence for a moment. I certainly wasn’t going to leave him alone. He recovered pretty quickly though, and soon he was sat back like nothing happened.

 

“Did you come here to escape the noise?” he asked me.

 

“You caught me,” I replied with a shrug.

 

“Yeah, I know the feeling. I’m just waiting for someone to text me to go to stage.”

 

“Same.”

 

This was a bit weird. Out of everyone on the team, Tyler was the one I talked to the least. I had nothing against him, we just never seemed to have moments alone. Yet, I still considered him apart of my support system. Now I had to be his.

 

“You and Mark are doing amazing with the singing,” Tyler told me. “You’re doing amazing.”

 

“Thanks.” I smiled. “You know that’s the first real compliment I’ve gotten? Everyone else thinks I’m depressed or single.”

 

Tyler chuckled. “I mean… you did cry.”

 

“Doesn’t equate to a depressive episode.”

 

He sat back, thinking. “So what does fall under the criteria of a depressive episode?”


	7. Chapter 7

No one seemed to notice that Tyler and I were away from everyone else. Ethan was too distracted by his friends Brian and Morgan, who came to today’s show. Ethan hadn’t texted me at all since the day started, so I guess the war was on hold. Or he was avoiding my last text. One day at a time.

 

At one point, the guys were called to the stage for dress rehearsal. I talked to Brian and Morgan for a bit while we sat in the audience, but I couldn’t help but wonder if Ethan had filled them in on what had been going on, whether it was the miscarriage, or our text fight. Come to think of it, I wasn’t sure if Ethan was the type to vent to his friends about how shitty his girlfriend was.

 

Wait. Am I the shitty one here? Am I the bad guy? I never did anything wrong, I never cheated on him. Why was he accusing me of that? More importantly, what was he hiding?

 

I couldn’t help but glare at him from my seat in the front row. Imagine seeing a fan glare at you while you were onstage. He didn't notice me, though. I figured I could just text him how I feel. When were we going to have a moment alone on this bus life, anyway?

 

Their ending song didn’t make me smile like it used to. All I could see was my awful boyfriend making it big with four of his friends. If my suspicions were correct and he did cheat, then he didn’t deserve any of this. Cheaters don’t deserve good things. I hated thinking about Ethan that way, and it killed me to have to think that he spent the day with someone else. It sank deep into my heart, which fell into my stomach, and it made me want to cry to no end.

 

What if he did? What entity possessed him to make him leave to meet with another person and do… who knows? Why wasn’t I enough? Didn’t he love me? Clearly he doesn't, he never did. He just wanted to get rid of me somehow, right?

 

Clearly, my mind was threatening to jump ship, so I had to intervene before my entire world shifted for the worse. You gotta swatch before you decide to buy.

 

Before I knew it, my legs were moving and I was walking towards the bus. Again, I was escorted by security because there were fans that arrived early. For once, I did not acknowledge them in any capacity; My mind was going elsewhere, and I had to either ease or confirm my suspicions.

 

This time, the vehicle was empty. Perfect. I sat on the sofa, phone in hand. My stomach was now knotted with nerves. I took deep breaths and told myself this was absolutely necessary. If Ethan wasn’t talking to me, then this is what I had to do.

 

I pulled up the phone number. Then I waited five more minutes.  _ I can do this. I have to do this. _ My thumb hovered over the call button. Kinda wanted to crap myself. But I did it.

 

“Hey, Bobby! It’s Bella,” I greeted when the man picked up.

 

“Ethan’s Bella?” the man on the other line asked. Being referred to that didn’t ease my anxiety.

 

“Yeah,” I breathed out. “Uh… I had a couple of questions about a certain meeting or shoot you organized for Ethan…”

 

“Sure, ask away!” Bobby happily said.

 

Okay.  _ Okay. _

 

“I guess you guys had a meeting in July about some merch…” I trailed off, hoping it would ring a bell for him. “Or a photoshoot? Yeah, I think it was a shoot from July, and we never saw the photos go public or anything. I-I think Ethan had been meaning to contact you about it or something…”

 

Bobby chuckled on the other line. “Well that would be strange, because there weren’t any shoots scheduled in July.”

 

My heart sank even further. “A-Are you sure? It was like… I think around the D23 Expo? There wasn’t anything around that time?”

 

“Mm, nope! Ethan had a lot of traveling at the beginning of the month, and I had my own things to do at the end of the month. There was just no time,” he explained.

 

I wanted to be sick. I thanked Bobby and apologized for my confusion before hanging up.

 

So… that day that Ethan had disappeared with no warning… He had said it was a meeting and a photoshoot. He lied to my face. What else could he be lying about?

 

I clutched my chest, my heart pounding painfully fast. My hands were getting tingly and my vision was blurring with tears. I started breathing quicker and harder, my mind spiraling into disaster scenarios. This couldn’t be happening.

 

~

 

How I got through today’s set, I don’t know. Why Mark and I decided to make a majority of our set sad breakup songs, I don’t know. It helped a little bit, but it also tore at me.  _ “You’re cheating, you’re lying, I know that you’re hiding two cell phones.” “And no one can love you the way I used to, but love isn’t fair…”  _ My favorite one was,  _ “How could someone so beautiful be so damn ugly? I guess I’m naive.” _

 

I had yet to talk to Ethan about this. I technically wasn’t allowed to jump to conclusions yet, but I couldn’t help it. I could feel myself losing my mind, thinking of every scenario of him… with someone else. Touching them, kissing them. Leaving me in the dust. Forgetting everything we had together. It was  _ killing  _ me.

 

_ “I, I, I, you and I get along like fire to a plane,” _ I sang with my eyes shut.  _ “You, you, you, make me feel like I’m fucking going so insane!” _

 

There was a wave of cheers as I hit that high note. It's what kept me from seriously losing it on stage in front of everyone. My thoughts usually cleared up when I sang, instead I just wanted to cry and scream and throw the microphone so it would shatter.

 

The green room was suffocating and hot today. Normally after singing, I felt free and full of adrenaline. But today, I just couldn’t stay in there. Molly and Day had asked me if I was okay, but I brushed it off. If I was wrong about Ethan - and I hoped to god I was wrong - then I didn’t want anyone to think less of him because of my suspicions. I couldn’t talk to anyone about this. No one could talk me down. The only person who had a chance at talking me down was on stage singing about a dog off the top of his head.

 

I got up from the couch and went out to the hallway to catch my breath. It was the closest thing I had to complete solitude apart from my bunk.

 

When the main show ended, I was coming down from my second anxiety attack of the day. The guys walked past me as they piled into the green room. I offered a smile, trying to mimic their high spirits. Ethan, however, stopped when he saw me, which made Bob run into him and cause a mini traffic jam. Then he stepped aside, standing in front of me.

 

“Whatcha doin’ out here?” he asked once everyone had gone in the room.

 

I kept my eyes on my boots. This had to happen now.

 

“You have to be completely, one hundred percent honest with me,” I told him, my voice shaking. “Brutal honesty.”

 

“Brutal honesty,” he confirmed.

 

I sighed and tried to ease my nerves. But I was so close to the truth that my mind started to race, and so did my breathing.

 

“Hey, it’s okay,” Ethan soothed as he took my hand. “Here, let’s walk. Come on…”

 

Gently, he pulled me through the hallway. He talked me through my third attack that day. Jesus Christ, one suspicion sends me spiraling. I wasn’t even sure if I could handle the real truth.

 

“So what’s going on?” he asked me after a while. “Talk to me. Is everything too much? Do you want to go home?”

 

Why did he want me to leave so badly? Ugh, that was just another fight waiting to happen.

 

I stopped in my tracks and leaned against the wall. “Back in July,” I began, “you ditched me, Jack, and Signe because you had a photoshoot you forgot about.”

 

Ethan didn’t say anything, but he nodded.

 

“I called Bobby today,” I continued, “and he told me… he said you guys had nothing scheduled that month. Not only that, you were really protective of your phone and you didn’t want to be around me. And now that I’ve crapped out a fetus that was conceived that very month, you’re pushing something on me that you might actually be guilty of.”

 

“I can explain,” he said without missing a beat. “I didn’t have a photoshoot that day. I’m sorry I lied to you.”

 

Why did that only make me more suspicious?

 

Ethan opened his mouth to say more, but nothing came out. It only made me crazier.

 

“Who were you with?” I asked. “Was she pretty? Was she better than me?”

 

“No! No, that’s not what happened! I wasn’t with another girl!” he told me, sounding completely appalled. “I would never - no, god no!”

 

“Then what was it?”

 

He hesitated, averting eye contact for a moment. “Why would you call Bobby instead of just coming to me?” he finally asked, his tone changing completely.

 

“Because you were-”

 

“I thought we were supposed to talk to each other! You’re the one who always pushed for communication, why would you go back on your word?” he snapped. “Why don’t you trust me?”

 

He was right. We always go to each other. But I stood my ground. I folded my arms, glaring at him. “Now you sound like you’re hiding something.”

 

“I did not cheat on you. Brutal honesty.”

 

We stared each other down for a long moment. I wasn’t sure if I could trust him or not. Whenever we use the brutal honesty code, we know we’re not lying to each other. But what if he said that to get me off his back?

 

“If I find out something else,” I told him, holding up a threatening finger, “and I find out you were lying to me, I swear to god, you will not live to see the end of this tour. Understand?”

 

Ethan looked just as upset, but he nodded.

 

~

 

The only day where we didn’t rip each other’s throats out was when we were in Boston. Why? Ethan’s mom attended that show. Of course, she wanted to know every single detail on the miscarriage. Although she was horrified and saddened, we reassured her that everything was fine. Things were going on like they normally did. This was fine.

 

But once we were back on the bus, we picked up where we left off.

 

_ “Why are you still mad at me?” _

 

_ “Because there’s still something wrong I just know it” _

 

_ “Babe you’re being a little paranoid…” _

 

_ “How dare you???” _

 

_ “Wtf???” _

 

_ “I’m going to sleep.” _

 

I rolled over facing the wall in my tiny coffin. I plugged in my portable charger, my headphones and put on a YouTube video. It was the only way I could sleep on this bumpy ride. However, just as my eyes started to droop, I got one last text.

 

_ “...I love you.” _

  
  


I stuck with Tyler a little more. After our run in on the bus, he came to me for more anxiety advice. I was still the only person who knew about his panic attacks, too. Things were so busy that no one seemed to notice us migrating towards each other. Turns out, we had some things in common.

 

“A bus full of people,” I pondered, “a whole squad we’re cooped up with, and yet… we feel alone.”

 

“What drives someone to that point?” Tyler wondered.

 

We had been walking around Tower Theatre in Upper Darby upon arrival. It was still early, and the set was still being built, so neither of us were needed for anything. I could have taken that time to get my hair sorted out and my glam face on, but I couldn’t find it in me to do it. Lately I had been going over the top with my makeup for when I would sing, but today? Nah. Tyler and I wandered around the venue and eventually settled for sitting in the seats in the very back of the theatre.

 

“For me, it’s deliberate isolation,” I admitted, propping my feet up on the seats in front of me. “I, uh, feel less isolated when I’m with Ethan… because he talks to everyone.”

 

“So you’re included by default,” Tyler said.

 

“Pretty much. What’s your excuse?”

 

He chuckled. “I’m not alone, I have you.”

 

“Good excuse!”

 

Just then, my phone dinged. At this point, I didn’t like getting passive aggressive texts from my boyfriend, so my stomach dropped just at the sound. I was practically conditioned to feel like shit whenever I received a new notification.

 

But it wasn’t Ethan this time. I sat up straight as I eagerly opened the message from Jack.

 

_ “What’s up my good ball?” _

 

For once, I was delighted at a text. I responded quickly and without hesitation. I missed him. Over the summer, we spoke almost every day through whatever ways we could. Lately, we both had tours to prep for, so things went quiet for a little bit.

 

Thinking about Jack made me think of when we were roommates. What were we doing last fall? A Halloween tutorial and crying over our exes.

 

“And a year later,” I said to Tyler, “...he’s happy.”

 

“You’re not?”

 

“I’m definitely not sad. I don’t know, I think this stuff with Ethan is getting to my head.”

 

I hadn’t told anybody what exactly was happening between us. Tyler was respectful enough to not ask any questions; I wouldn’t even know what to say if he did.

 

“Well, relationship issues - whatever they may be - are always gonna be there. But this…” He gestured to the stage. “How often do we get to do this?”

 

I couldn’t help but agree. “A year ago, you couldn’t even get me to the amphitheatre at YTU. There’s bigger things going on.”

 

“Exactly. And besides, whatever you and Ethan have going on, I’m sure it’ll pass. You guys are strong.”

 

I could only hope.

 

The most affectionate thing I sent in the midst of our fight was, _“Congrats on 500k, I’m proud of you❤”_ You could say that Tyler’s words circled my head throughout the day. I didn’t want to seem entirely heartless to Ethan, but the fact that I sent that text while we were in the same room said that we weren’t on good terms. Our lack of eye contact and physical separation in the room was a bit of an indicator to everyone else that something was off between us. At this point, I just wasn’t into the mood to talk to him anymore.


	8. Chapter 8

_ “I’m no cry baby, but you made my cry, baby _

_ Cry baby” _

 

Mark and I shared a look once we finished that song. We were both silently asking each other if it sounded any good. Usually we had Dan guide us, but since we were doing so well on our own, he left us to go live stream. With Kathryn. And Ethan.

 

“You got really into that one,” Mark told me.

 

“It’s my stand in therapy until I can see Helena again,” I replied, looking in the vanity mirror.

 

I couldn’t be bothered with makeup today. I couldn’t even bring myself to get out of my sweatpants. It was half past noon and it didn’t even feel like it.

 

“Is there something going on?” he asked, even though he knew damn well already. “And does it have to do with you and Ethan staring at your phones all day?”

 

My cheeks flushed. “So it’s that obvious, huh?”

 

He shrugged. “You guys are usually really handsy and… always together. You think we’re not gonna notice your sudden silence?”

 

Now I shrugged, turning away from my reflection.

 

“You can talk to me, you know that,” Mark said.

 

“Let’s just do the next song.”

 

He looked at my for a second, and then he strummed on his guitar.

 

_ “Sweet creature _

_ Had another talk about where it’s going wrong…” _

 

Following that rehearsal, I had a burning sensation stuck in my throat, and it wasn’t just because I was straining my voice. Ethan hadn’t texted me today. Maybe he finally gave up on me. Maybe he was so guilty about what he had done that he couldn’t face me.

 

Oh boy, was I wrong.

 

I took a walk by myself because I didn’t want to feel excluded again. Well, a security guard walked me to the bus, so was I really alone?

 

There was another guard at the door to the vehicle. I assumed it was Tyler who was on the bus, maybe I could talk to him. That is if my emotions didn’t get in the way first.

 

But Tyler wasn’t there. I walked through the lounge area, looking around for any other human, and then I found Ethan emerging from the back of the bus. We made eye contact and stopped in our tracks, caught off guard. When was the last time we were alone together?

 

“What are you doing here?” he asked me, his shoulders hunching slightly.

 

“I left something here,” I replied, not wanting to admit that I wanted to wallow by myself.

 

I tried to side step past him since he was right at the end of the little hallway where the bunks were, where my bunk was, but he stood his ground. Ethan gently grabbed my shoulders to stop me.

 

“I miss you.”

 

_ He should. He knows why you’re keeping a distance. Even if it is making you lose it. _

 

I shrugged. “Okay.” Then I tried to step past him again, but he kept blocking me.

 

“Bella,” he deadpanned.

 

“What?” I asked, now a little irritated.

 

“I miss you,” he repeated.

 

I don’t know what kind of sorcery Ethan’s performed to make me give into him, but it really irked me this time.

 

With a small moment of hesitation, I finally replied, “I miss you too…”

 

“What happened to us?” he asked. “I know it’s been really crazy, but we’re together every day and we can’t even look at each other.”

 

It was true. My eyes were everywhere but on him. Honestly, I had no idea what he was expecting, given what we’ve been talking about the last few days.

 

“Are you okay?” he tried again, tilting his head so he could get into my line of vision. “We haven’t really talked about the miscarriage.”

 

“Because you accused me of cheating on you,” I said back.

 

“Okay. Well, I’m sorry. I trust you.”

 

“Do you?”

 

“Brutal honesty.”

 

Now I looked at him, narrowing my eyes.

 

“What, you don’t believe in that anymore either?” he asked spitefully.

 

I shrugged out of his hold and stepped back. Neither of us said anything more. Ethan finally gave up and walked past me to the exit. I kept my back towards him until I heard the door open and shut. Instead, I heard:

 

“Hey.”

 

Sighing, I looked over my shoulder.

 

“I love you,” he told me.

 

“That doesn’t fix anything!”

 

I heard the door slam shut after that.

 

Unfortunately, I couldn’t spend any time alone after that. As soon as I sat down, Amy texted me to come help with the VIP packs. Somehow, the job I was assigned to do every day for two weeks slipped my mind.

 

Within a few minutes, I was bursting into one of the rooms backstage, where Amy and Kathryn were sat on the floor, surrounded by merch. I quickly joined them, grabbing one of the backpacks and filling it with merch.

 

“How nice of you to join us,” Kathryn sarcastically told me.

 

“Sorry,” I said sheepishly. “I was on the bus, got a little distracted.”

 

“Yeah? Ethan was on the bus too, I heard,” Amy said as she nudged my side.

 

I scoffed. “Yeah, like any of that is happening…”

 

“He literally just came by and told us what happened,” Kathryn bluntly said.

 

That was the first time I heard something like that. I paused my motions for a second, trying to figure out what that could mean. Were Kathryn and Amy on his side? Was I in dangerous territory by talking to them?

 

“Oh,” I said at last, continuing what I was doing. “‘Course he would.”

 

The two girls shared confused looks.

 

“What does that mean?” Kathryn asked.

 

“Nothing,” I replied. “He and I just have different ways of thinking, I guess.”

 

There was a moment of silence, and then Amy spoke up again.

 

“You guys will get through it,” she said sincerely.

 

I only hummed.

 

Later that night on the bus, I spilled everything to Jack in a spam of texts. It didn’t really matter if he replied with sage words of advice, I just had to tell someone. If Ethan was perfectly fine with telling people our personal business, then I could do the same.

 

_ “You don’t have to reply or anything,”  _ I concluded.  _ “Just wanted to rant to someone who isn’t three feet away. Anyway, buenas noches guey.” _

 

He was probably asleep anyway. It didn’t matter.

 

~

 

Following the Upper Darby show, I was dreading the method of getting to the next venue. We were all going to be confined to an airplane for two and a half miserable hours. Next stop: Orlando, Florida.

 

I woke up that morning to a weird silence, apart from Tyler, Bob, and Wade in the back of the bus. All I could smell was feet and sweat. I sighed and pulled my curtain open, peering down the hall. We were still parked outside the venue, I could tell.

 

Later that morning, we were sent to the airport, where we boarded the flight I was dreading. I kept my headphones on, hugged my pillow tightly and tried not to feel like I was going to die. Tyler sat with me and knocked out almost immediately. Just like everyone else on the crew except for a fair few.

 

Forgot to mention: Mark had been hyping up his audience with suspicious social media activity, as one does. Today, the finale of the mini series “Who Killed Markiplier?” was going up on YouTube. That is, if Mark, Kathryn, Ethan, and Amy got it all done in time. I was pretty sure that if we were confined to the bus for fourteen hours as opposed to the flight, they would have worked nonstop like they usually do. They spent the entire night on the bus, working on this last video. I didn’t want to be a bother, so I had decided to just stay in my bunk, and now I was isolating myself and trying not to externally panic.

 

Prior to the flight I got a new text from Ethan.

 

_ “We’re not fighting today.” _

 

_ “Okay,”  _ I wrote back, knowing the situation already. It’s really hard to be okay for someone in need, to pull yourself together for their sake. All I could do was send a heart and hope it would suffice until we hit the land. Safely, of course. Not literally. Oh god, I might just keel over right now.

 

After that, I conveniently got a text from Jack, who was in a completely different timezone. I thought he would be preparing for his own show, but I guess not.

 

_ “He fucking cheated on you?”  _ he sent. I could almost hear the shock and rage in his voice. _ “Are you sure? I need you to be sure so I can kill him!” _

 

_ “No, no, no,”  _ I quickly typed back.  _ “Down boy. He told me he didn’t, I just don’t know if I should believe him. I mean, you read my texts!” _

 

_ “Yeah, and it definitely looks bad! What are you gonna do?” _

 

I sighed as I mulled it over.  _ “I don’t know. There isn’t much I can do, given everything that’s going on right now. I guess the people we share a bus with have noticed we’re fighting through text. Oh, and everyone is tiptoeing around me because of the miscarriage, so that’s just great.” _

 

_ “MISCARRIAGE???” _

 

_ “Oops. Did I forget to tell you about that?” _

 

I spent the next ten minutes filling him in on that, leaving out the excruciating bloody details. After that, Jack had to go. He was a busy man after all, but he did have time to caps lock at me for not telling him about the miscarriage sooner. I guess I understood that. He was my best friend, after all.

 

Still, in this bus, on this tour, on this plane, I felt alone. The only moment I truly loved was when I was singing on stage. I know, I loved being in front of those people. Funny how things change. I also loved packing the VIP bags, it was weirdly calming. I also loved my tiny, coffin sized bunk. It was my sanctuary when things got too hectic.

 

The only person who came looking for me was Mark. He approached me and sleeping Tyler in the aisle, looking relieved and a little dazed.

 

“Morning,” he greeted as he squatted down to my level.

 

“Hi,” I replied as I pulled off my headphones. I still kept a tight hold on my pillow. “What time is it?”

 

“It’s twelve o’clock in LA, that’s all that matters!” he told me before reach over to shake Tyler’s arm. “Dude, wake up! The video just went live!”

 

The large tree man woke with a start. “Wha…? What happened?”

 

I looked down at my phone as Mark explained everything to him. I had received a YouTube notification. “I’ll, uh, retweet this and express my emotions in a hundred and forty characters. Or two hundred and eighty, if I got the update.”

 

Mark chuckled. “Come sit with us. We’re celebrating with drinks. There’s a bottle of water with your name on it.”

 

It was already hard enough watching some people bust out the alcohol after every show. But to drink this early? On a fucking flight? This was PAX East all over again. I was sure to relapse by the end of this tour.

 

“Gotta earn my next sobriety chip,” I told him with a shrug. “And I’m too anxious and afraid to move.”

 

Mark nodded. “Got it. Tyler?”

 

“I’ll go.” He took off his seatbelt and stood up.

 

With that, the pair went to go join the others. I savoured my solitude, because I was sure they, or anyone, was going to try to lure me out of my isolation chamber.

 

And right I was. Tyler returned, followed by Mark, Kathryn, Amy, Ethan, Bob, and Wade. Each of them had bottles of water. Ethan took the empty seat next to me and handed me a water bottle. Now I really had no excuse to deliberately exclude myself. I offered a timid smile.

 

“Look who’s alive!” he exclaimed, nudging my arm.

 

Everyone let out small cheers, holding up their water bottles. My cheeks burned.

 

“You guys didn’t have to,” I stammered. “Don’t let my dumb problems ruin your fun.”

 

“Nonsense!” snapped Mark, who was standing between Amy and Kathryn. “No one gets left out! Okay, we gotta do this quick, there’s people giving us dirty looks.”

 

It felt a little strange to be so physically close to Ethan again. Our shoulders touched, and it set my skin on fire. Wow, even when things are tense.

 

“A toast,” Mark began, holding up his water, “to the best team a man could ask for. I’m very proud of all of us and everything we’ve done together. Making this series was an incredible journey, and it was an even bigger honor to work with all of you. But of course, I was better than all of you. Cheers!”

 

“Cheers!” the group repeated, and then we all drank.

 

After that, everyone returned to their respective seats, even Ethan. I didn’t even get the chance to say anything to him.

 

The longer I stayed there on the flight, the more I wanted to sneak a mini liquor bottle into my carry on bag. Everyone else was acting normal, talking to each other, even sleeping. I thought I was getting better at handling these situations, but I just wasn’t programmed for it. The only reason why I was getting better was because Ethan acted as my buffer. My safety person. Now, he was sitting two rows in front of me, leaving me in the dust.

 

Tyler reclaimed his seat next to me, watching me carefully. “You alright?”

 

“Don’t ask me that,” I said breathlessly, clutching my pillow as I tried to catch my breath. I drained my water bottle and set it down. “God, I wish that was vodka…”

 

“Should I get Ethan?” he asked.

 

I shook my head, and then I started rambling in a low voice. “He’s not talking to me, but I should talk to him. I have to talk to him, I have to say something. But he hates me, he really hates me, and he has a lot on his plate. I don’t wanna bother him… I shouldn’t bother him…”

 

“Here, just squeeze my hand,” Tyler said, joining his big hand with my clammy one. “It’s okay, we’ve only got an hour left. Keep breathing, everything’s okay…”

 

When we were on the ground again, and I was sane again, I realized something. Ethan already knew perfectly well how I get with flights. Before, he would sit with me and talk me through my anxiety without batting an eye. Today, he sat with me for a moment and saw me hugging my pillow for dear life during the toast. Didn’t even acknowledge me. Carried on like nothing happened.

 

What have we come to?


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey i suggest listening to 'love me or leave me' by little mix as u read this chapter :D

Later that afternoon, we made it to Orlando. For once, we had a hotel to stay in. I was looking forward to it, until I remembered that I was sharing a room with Ethan. A week ago, we were excited to have at least one night where we could be alone together. It made me sad that I was dreading it now.

 

The boys had rehearsal almost as soon as we settled in. Meaning, I had the hotel room to myself for a couple of hours. I was on vocal rest since my throat was getting more and more scratchy as the days went on, so I couldn’t rehearse my set with Mark today. Molly and Day had invited me to go to lunch with them, but I made an excuse about needing to shower and edit a video I had prepped in advance. I mean I did shower, but the three videos I had to prepare before leaving for tour were already scheduled.

 

Ethan returned to the room just after the sun went down. It was tensely silent as he went to his suitcase on one side of the room. Then, he quietly went into the bathroom to brush his teeth. This is how our night was going to be.

 

“Should I even stay here?” he finally asked once he came out of the bathroom.

 

_ We’re not fighting today. We are not fighting today. _

 

“Well,” I said, already losing control of my words, “you can either stay with one of your many female friends and further feed into my suspicions-”

 

“Oh, come  _ on!”  _ he whined miserably.

 

_ “Or,”  _ I said, raising my voice, “you can sleep on the couch and keep acting like you hate me!”

 

_ We are not fighting. We are not fighting. _

 

There was a moment of silence. At first, I thought Ethan was going to yell or throw something, judging by the look on his face. Instead, he pulled his phone out and started typing.

 

I scoffed. “Are we still yelling at each other over the phone?”

 

“I’m asking Kathryn what room she’s in,” he mumbled. “I’m gonna go stay with her. I can’t do this today.”

 

For some reason, all my empathy and mushy girlfriend feelings dissolved. Instead, I was furious.

 

“So you’re going to leave me for some other woman,” I said, chuckling in disbelief. “And I assume you’re going to tell her everything that’s happening between us and what a pain in the ass I am?”

 

Ethan looked up at me, confused. “What are you talking about?”

 

“She said you were telling her things about us! Why are you telling her our business?”

 

“Because she’s my friend, that’s what friends do!” He was now fired up, angrily pacing around the room. “Not that you would know anything about that! Unless you’ve been talking to Jack this whole time!” he added resentfully.

 

“I have to, he’s my best friend!” I argued.

 

_ “I’m  _ supposed to be your best friend!” Ethan finally yelled, probably being heard through the walls.  _ “I’m  _ supposed to be the one you go to! And you think I hate you? You…” He huffed out a sigh. “You don’t even say that you love me anymore! I know you’re mad at me, and I’m really fucking mad at you right now… but I still love you, and I make sure you know it! Grrr, I’m in love with you, why do you think we haven’t broken up yet? I’m so fucking in love with you, it makes me crazy!”

 

I wanted to laugh out loud, but the volume of his voice only made me flinch and cry. Why would you aggressively yell at someone that you love them when it sounds like you hate them? Why would you drop the idea of breaking up and then say you’re in love? What’s the point of that?

 

“No, no, no,” I told him. “You’re making  _ me _ go crazy. Ever since the hospital, you’ve been treating me and looking at me like I’m fucking made of glass! You kept asking me if I wanted to go home!” I took a step closer to him, steam coming out of my ears. “I have generalized anxiety disorder, my fucking default setting is always ‘go home! Abort mission!’ It's  _ so _ hard for me to do any of this! It’s hard for me to be on a bus full of people, and interact with them, and it was even harder when I miscarried! But I'm still doing it, and that doesn't make me weak or fragile or anything you’re seeing me as! And you know what? I'm proud of myself for getting through that and for going on this tour and facing my anxiety! I'm fucking proud of myself!”

 

I was out of breath by the time I finished my speech. My head was spinning with anger. Ethan just looked at me, his lips pursed. There had been a lot of silence between us lately, but this was the most crushing and intense. But when he finally spoke, his tone was hard and stern.

 

“What. About. Me? What about me?!” he asked, his voice cracking. “Do you think any of this has been easy for me? Do you think anyone asked how _ I  _ was doing after we got back from the hospital? You may have been able to forget about the miscarriage and everything, but I can't get the fucking image of you screaming and lying in your own blood out of my head! I don’t understand how you can still lay in that bunk! I can't even sleep because all I'm thinking about is that I'll wake up and you'll be covered in blood again! And I swear to fucking god if you make another joke about pushing out a dead fetus or giving death instead of birth, I will  _ fucking kill you myself!” _

 

He stepped towards me, his angry expression suddenly turning into a hysterically sad one. “Why don't you care that this happened? Why don't you see that it affected me too? Imagine if you were left on the bus all alone and no one found you?” He began to ramble, his voice getting more and more shaky as tears welled up in his eyes. “W-What if no one found you, Bella? Would you have let yourself die? Would you have left m-me? Bella, w-w-would you have l-left me?” He stepped even closer, grabbed my shoulders and shook me. He was getting even more hysterical. “I c-couldn't lose you, I-I-I don't know w-what I'd do without you, god I thought I was gonna l-l-lose you I thought y-you were gonna die! I thought you were gonna die! W-What if I never got to see you again? W-What if I never told you that I love you one last time?”

 

I had never seen Ethan sob as hard as he did in that moment. He broke down completely, crying into my shoulder and wrapping his arms around me. He held onto me like I was a lifeline.

 

That was when all my anger went away. Instead, I felt horrible, horrible guilt. This entire time, I had only been focusing on myself, and getting myself past the miscarriage. Not once had I thought about how this impacted Ethan. He was apart of this too, and he was afraid he was going to lose me.

 

His knees started to buckle, so I sat us both down on the bed. Ethan still held on to me, his sobs quieting down, but still crying softly. I rubbed his back and stroked his hair, shedding my own tears as I tried to think of something to say.

 

“I-I’m sorry,” I choked out. “I should have thought of you…”

 

Ethan sat up, sniffling. He looked down at his lap, tears still spilling out of his eyes. “Do you even care?”

 

“I do,” I replied softly. “I haven’t forgotten, trust me.”

 

“Then why don’t you talk to me?” he asked. “What happened to us?” He took in a shaky breath. “Why do you push me away? You never push me away…”

 

We both knew that wasn’t true, but I couldn’t bring myself to say it.

 

“I don’t mean to…”

 

“Then tell me about the miscarriage,” he said, now meeting my teary gaze. “Talk to me, Bella, please! How did you know? When did it start? Why didn’t you tell me? What were you thinking about?”

 

A lot of questions at once. Ethan, my Ethan, was in distress but I couldn’t get over my own to help him. I didn’t know what else to do except stand up and turn away. It only frustrated him more.

 

“Stop doing that!” he yelled. “Stop avoiding it! Stop shutting me out! Stop hating me! I-I’m literally crying my eyes out to you and you’re just - I can’t do it like this, Bella! I can’t pretend it didn’t happen!”

 

“I have to!” I finally snapped. “I have to handle things one at a time! Right now, the most important thing is this tour! And fighting with you is just making me enjoy it less! It’s making me turn it into a bad memory - I don’t want to look back at this and think about how awful it was because my body decided to eject a fetus-”

 

Ethan groaned in frustration. “Don’t say it like that!”

 

“It’s what happened! My stressed out body couldn’t handle a baby, so it rejected it and I almost bled out! That’s what happened!” I stopped myself before I could sob.

 

We both stayed where we were, crying quietly. We had never fought like this before. I was sure the neighbors were hearing us.

 

“I don’t want bad memories either,” Ethan spoke after a while, his tone much calmer but still sad. “I don’t want to fight with you. I just… I miss you, and I have things to talk about, but… you just want to fight with me.”

 

I took in a shaky breath. I choked up even more at the memory of the miscarriage, especially since it started all of this.

 

“I’m not ready to talk about it,” I admitted.

 

Another pause.

 

“Why didn’t you say that sooner?” Ethan asked, annoyed.

 

“Because we thought the other person cheated,” I replied in the same tone. “Replaced one battle with another.”

 

“Can you not look at this as a battle? We just have to talk about this, like adults.”

 

“I can’t talk about it,” I repeated. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

 

“It doesn’t work like that, remember? You know how you get when you hold things in… You get mad, like you are now. And you start drinking.”

 

I scoffed and rolled my eyes. “If I wanted to drink, I would have done it by now. It’s like I’ve been telling you, a silly little miscarriage isn’t going to break me.”

 

“Yet you refuse to talk about it.”

 

By this point, there was no fight left in me. I was tired of being angry and upset. I didn't even want to be around him anymore.

 

“Can we do this after tour?” I asked, serious pleading in my tone. “We can go see Helena together when we're in LA again. Please?”

 

Ethan was looking at his lap. If he fought me on this, I don't know what I'd do.

 

“Okay,” he said at last. “But isn't your next appointment with her until after my birthday? Can we go that long without fighting?”

 

It wasn't a good sign that I was hesitating, and Ethan knew this.

 

“Whatever I've done to make you hate me, I'm sorry,” he told me. “I know you're strong, and I know you can do this and stay sober. I just get worried. And I need you this time.”

 

I hummed in response. I really didn't know how to handle this part of a conflict. I wasn't good at this. My brain was screaming at me to call it quits, which made me act like I really did hate him. This wasn't a happy, perfect relationship anymore, what's the point?

 

“If I hated you,” I said, trying to fight against the thoughts in my head, “I wouldn't be here right now.”

 

Ethan stood up and stepped towards me. “So you love me?”

 

“I don't hate you.” My brain was too loud for this.

 

“No, you have to tell me you love me.” There was a small, childlike plea in his voice. “I have to hear you say it so I can believe it.”

 

I felt cramped as he got closer. Then, I sidestepped past him to get to the door. “I need some air.”

 

“Are you always going to run when something bad happens?” I heard him ask as I exited the hotel room.

 

Once I was alone in the hall, I sighed and rubbed my eyes. Then, before anyone could come out of their respective rooms, I dashed off towards the elevators, Ethan’s sobs still circling my head and ringing in my ears.


	10. Chapter 10

**@bellasanti:** _I have found a song that has bested me…_

 

Attached to the tweet was a clip of me singing “Love Me Or Leave Me” by Little Mix, particularly all the high notes towards the end of the song. My face was contorted as I tried to hit every one, and it was difficult. Not to toot my own horn, but I could usually sing risky songs like that with next to no problem, but with this song… my voice cracked several times.

 

Or maybe I couldn’t sing it because it made me feel really, unbearably guilty. But Dan knew the song on piano and I couldn’t just tell him to stop! Then, Mark took my phone and started recording, so I was really in deep and couldn’t dig myself out.

 

I watched back the clip, shaking my head and cringing at myself as I walked around the stage. Mark and Dan were mindlessly playing tunes, waiting for me to join them again. I closed the Twitter app and went to my texts, opening up my conversation with Ethan. Nothing new, not even an indication that he was typing. Our silence gave me a lot of room to listen to music and clear my head. But all I could think of was how hard Ethan had cried yesterday, and all the things he said… how I treated him prior to all of that…

 

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I joined Mark and Dan once again. We continued rehearsing the acoustic set, or the one acapella song in our set.

 

Little Mix kept circling my head as we sang. [I distinctly remembered watching a video of the group singing this particular song, The End, for the first time.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Cgp1AglGqQ4) When Perrie Edwards was in the middle of singing her solo (ironically, the same solo I took on), she burst into tears and couldn’t finish the song. Every time I listened to that song, that was what I thought of. I’m not saying that I had a meltdown while rehearsing or performing on stage, but  _ god  _ that moment resonated with me deeply.

 

I felt just like Perrie by the time my rehearsal was done. Although, I didn’t feel as crappy as I did yesterday, when I practically hid in the bathrooms in the hotel lobby, silently crying my eyes out until after midnight. By the time I had returned to my room, Ethan was gone, having spent the night in one of his friends’ rooms. I was glad there wasn’t a show yesterday, I wasn’t sure how either of us would have done it.

 

Today was different. The circumstances required me to remain civil and strong faced. Just, not right this second. I spent the last hour singing while remaining calm and collected. This hour was dedicated to letting my mascara run down my face. The next hour would be for holding myself together again.

 

The security guard walking me to the bus was decent enough to act like I wasn’t on the verge of tears. I silently thanked him as I climbed the steps onto the vehicle, and I nearly collided into someone coming off.

 

It was Tyler. My plan to wallow and feel sorry for myself alone was now ruined. I sidestepped past him to the couch, and he followed my trail.

 

“What’s wrong?” he asked, concerned.

 

I shook my head as I started to cry more. I hadn’t talked about my dumb issues with anyone on this tour, why start now? Tyler was patient and persistent, though.

 

“I know there’s a lot going on right now,” he told me. “Things are hectic, it’s overwhelming. You can talk about it, it’s okay.”

 

It was stuck in my throat. But I only had one hour, and I already used up ten minutes. How could I explain anything that I was feeling?

 

“W-We keep f-fighting!” I cried after a moment. “We’re just r-ripping our heads off!”

 

Tyler didn’t need to ask who I was talking about. “Fighting about what, if I may ask?”

 

I thought my boyfriend cheated and vice versa. He treats me like I’m broken, I treat him like he’s nothing. My body pushed out dead offspring and it’s fucking with our heads a lot more than we - or, I - would like to admit.

 

I sniffed and wiped my eyes. Here we go. “I-It started with the miscarriage…”

 

“Is that what happened when you went to the hospital?” Tyler asked after a moment of silence.

 

“You didn’t know?” That was a bit of a surprise, given all the attention I got when I returned from the hospital. I thought of all the people coddling me and shunting Ethan to the side, and then I felt guilty.

 

“No, well… when the paramedics took you away, Kathryn shielded everyone from your bunk,” he explained. “She and Amy cleaned up and made some calls to get you a new mattress. Mark suggested to just switch buses altogether, y’know, for your sake, but that couldn’t be done.”

 

My stomach turned, and my cheeks heated up. I wasn’t sure why Kathryn and Amy would go through that for me. I couldn’t imagine anyone here making a fuss like that, not even Ethan. Why would they?

 

“A couple of people asked what happened,” Tyler went on, “but Kathryn was a little shaken up after you left. And I don’t think she wanted to breach your privacy, because she didn’t tell. But most of us saw the bloodstains.”

 

“So everyone knows it was a miscarriage?” I asked nervously. I made a mental note to attempt to hug Kathryn later. “Because no one’s asked me.”

 

He hesitated, thinking about it. “There’s been some talk. Don’t take this the wrong way-”

 

“Oh no.”

 

“-but you’ve been kind of… ah, unapproachable since the hospital,” Tyler admitted. “I know, and so do Mark, Amy, Kathryn, and Ethan - we know you have to put on a front to deal with all of this. But, I think you’re trying so hard to be strong and unaffected by what happened that you just… look very intimidating in front of everyone else… and a little mean, too.”

 

_ Abort! Abort! Abort! Pack it up, boys, we’re going home! Let’s never show our face here again! _

 

“Oh…” More tears welled up in my eyes.

 

“I understand that this is how you cope, but don’t shut out others when they want to help. You’re never going to be alone.”

 

He put his arm around me as I momentarily fell apart. I guess I didn’t really have to talk in order to open up. I just had to trust the person enough to be vulnerable around them. The only I people I trusted were Jack, who wasn’t here anymore, and Ethan, who didn’t want me here. But now I was crying on Tyler’s shoulder, because he conveniently caught me in a moment of need.

 

We pulled away from each other when the door to the bus opened. Someone must have been sent to drag us to the stage. I quickly wiped at my eyes and nose, only to look up and find Ethan entering the confined space.

 

His eyes were shiny with his own tears. However, he stopped in his tracks when he spotted me and Tyler on the couch. It looked like Ethan was trying to figure out what was happening just before he entered, and when he came to a conclusion, he turned on his heel and left.

 

“Wait!” Tyler called, then he nudged me. “Go after him!”

 

“I can’t,” I told him, despite how nervous it made me. “We agreed not to fight today.”

 

“So you’re just going to let him leave feeling like that? On top of everything else that’s going on?”

 

The guilt already sitting in my chest only struck harder. I looked at Tyler as if to say, “please don’t make me…” He stood his ground, though, so I took a quick look in the bathroom mirror and erased the mascara trail from under my eyes. Then, I sped off the bus.

 

I found him in the dressing room he shared with Dan, except Dan wasn’t there. The door was open, but I still knocked, seeing that Ethan was sitting at the vanity, typing on his phone.

 

“Hey,” he greeted, like he hadn’t been in tears a few minutes prior. He turned his head towards me, offering a smile.

 

Weirdly enough, it made me anxious. I fumbled on my words as I tried to explain what had happened on the bus, but Ethan stood up and stopped me.

 

“It’s okay,” he told me, offering his hand. “We’re not fighting today, remember?”

 

I stepped into the room as I took his hand. It was a little relieving that we hadn’t resorted to yelling and crying again. At the same time, the physical affection was just increasing my anxiety. What was the purpose for this? Was he just killing me with kindness?

 

Ethan’s gaze was a little much, too. Then again, I couldn’t really remember the last time I actually looked him in the eyes. I almost forgot how pretty they were…

 

Next thing I knew, he was pressing me up against the wall next to the door, which was still wide open. His hands tightly gripped my waist, and then he was kissing me full on the mouth. I was surprised, to say the least, but I couldn’t stop him. My hands found his shoulders, naturally pulling him in closer.

 

I wanted to blame lingering hormones on my sudden surge of lust, but it was Ethan keeping me trapped between him and the wall. He knew what I liked, and he was using it against me. He could get me to do whatever he wanted in this position. He had my bottom lip between his teeth, and he kept me in place with his body pressed up against mine.

 

The sound of a door closing down the hall pulled us apart. My breath was taken away as Ethan stepped away from me. Rationality was starting to return. Today was a non-fighting day, but we were still mad at each other, right?

 

“Why…?” I whispered, like I was still trying to come back to earth.

 

“I don’t remember the last time I kissed you,” he admitted, now a little timid. “And because I love you.”

 

“I lo-”

 

“No,” he said, much to my surprise. “You'd only be saying it because I kissed you. You can't say things when you're emotional. Isn't that what you told me?”

 

My cheeks grew even warmer. There were quite a few things Ethan failed to remember about us, like anniversaries, birthdays, and little things about me. I was not expecting him to remember that particular thing I told him many months ago. I could only stare at the ground, embarrassed and still blown away from the random kiss.

 

“I don't know what I did to make you stop loving me,” Ethan continued, “but we'll fight about that tomorrow, okay?”

 

Well, if I said it now, he would think it's because I'm obligated. My feelings of lust turned into heavy guilt. I watched Ethan leave without another word, feeling even worse.

 

The only person I texted that day was my sponsor.


	11. Chapter 11

A few months ago, Ethan had decided to start watching a wildly popular Netflix show. He had asked me to watch it with him, but after hearing that it dealt with suicide, I decided to sit that one out. Ethan went on to watch the show without me.

 

We had been dating for three and a half months at the time. We were still figuring things out. Who's the big spoon? (Me.) Who plans the dates? (Both of us.) Who's more physically needy? (Him.) How exactly do we feel about each other…? Where was this going...?

 

I was in a reasonably good place, but still a bit fragile. I was still keeping my guard up around Ethan, who had been nothing but kind and patient with me. I had been talking to Helena deeply about how to make this work and how to not let the noise in my head ruin it all. Looking back, it’s a major sign that I really loved him.

 

When Ethan finished the show, he came over to my apartment in tears. I guess it was a heavy program with not a lot of happy things. By this point, Ethan had seen all the scars from my own suicide attempt. He had only seen them one time, and again, he was nothing but sweet and supportive. For some reason, I didn’t think that my scars would scare him. I didn’t know that he thought about the “what if”s. I didn’t know that he thought about my possible death almost as much as I did.

 

“I-I know the world fucking sucks, and you’ve had a hard life, but I’m so happy that you’re here, a-and I hate that you wanted t-to…” He paused and took a breath. Then he hugged me for a long time. When he pulled back, he almost dropped the bomb. “I just… I lo-”

 

That was when I stopped him. Why did I stop him? Was I really so insecure that I thought he wouldn’t mean it? Was my past so haunting that I was going to let it follow me into the present? I really didn’t deserve him...

 

“You’re really emotional,” I had told him. “Maybe we shouldn’t say big, heavy things when we’re emotional, yeah?”

 

He seemed to agree, and then I held him until he felt better. We exchanged our first “I love you”s the week after… with some difficulty on my part, of course. But I said it and I meant it. 

 

Six months later, I’m wondering why I ever stopped him from saying it the first time. I was also hating that he used it against me. First, he really wanted me to be loving and affectionate. Now, I wasn’t allowed to? Especially after ambushing me with a steamy kiss in his dressing room? What kind of game was he playing?

 

I tried to get him alone after the Orlando show - Ethan had given a very emotional speech about the support from his father (who had come to that show, along with more of his relatives), and even went off the stage to hug him. Ethan had pretty much told the audience to tell the people you care about that you love them, because they might not be here tomorrow. It hit me pretty hard, on top the things that had been going down between us. It was just hard to pull him aside, especially since he just sat at the front of the bus after the show like nothing had happened.

 

I settled for just lying awake in my bunk, listening to the playlist I had made for him a few months back. I wasn’t even sure if he listened to it anymore. The bus was moving, and the sounds of people talking and celebrating could barely be heard through my headphones. I was getting used to the bumps and noise just as the tour was drawing to a close. The next few months were going to be a series of adjustment periods… and getting my period back to normal.

 

The screen of my phone lit up my tiny coffin. I was scrolling through the messages we had been sending over the last few days. Nothing but passive aggression and him pestering me to talk about the miscarriage.

 

Suddenly, a new chat bubble with three dots appeared, making my heart stop. I sat up in shock, momentarily forgetting the size of the tiny coffin, which resulted in me hitting my forehead on the wooden ceiling.

 

“Ow…” I mumbled, rubbing the spot I hit. I rolled over and read the new text.

 

_ “Is there any way we can see Helena sooner? Like, right when we get home?”  _ Then, there was another text.  _ “Also, did you just hit your head? :P” _

 

_ “It was the ghost,”  _ I typed back.  _ “And yeah, I’ll shoot her a text and see if she can book us.” _

 

_ “Cool beans.” _

 

I just stared at the screen for a moment, wanting to say something more. Something to show that I was done fighting.

 

_ “I’ve been thinking about the things you said on stage… You’re right. The people you love and care about won’t always be there. We’re not always going to have a chance to tell them how we really feel. I love you. I love you with every fiber of my being, and I haven’t been acting like it and I’m sorry. You deserve better than what you've been getting from me lately. You're nothing but good to me, you've put up with my nonsense without complaint, and you're the biggest supporter I have. I don't know where I'd be without you. If you're still in this, then I am too. ❤” _

 

Holding my breath, I sent the massive text. It was read almost instantly, but there were no indications of getting a response back.

 

I jumped slightly when I saw my curtain move. I quietly slid it open, finding a hand protruding from the bunk above mine. Smiling, I reached up and intertwined our fingers, finally feeling a bit of reassurance.

 

~

 

That tiny bit of reassurance went away fairly quickly. The next morning, we were in Atlanta, Georgia. Ethan and I had finally put an end to our text fights and properly made up when we got off the bus.

 

He pulled me to the side once we stepped off. He took my hands and looked down at them, a soft smile on his sleepy face. I pretended not to notice Kathryn, Amy, and Mark stare as they walked past us and focused on my boyfriend for a change.

 

“I really missed you,” he mumbled.

 

It really did feel like we were far away from each other over the last couple of weeks. I couldn't shake the guilt that had been looming over me. This moment was what the whole tour should have felt like. It should have been fun and busy, not sad and hectic.

 

“I'm sorry about everything,” I told him sincerely. “And I'll text Helena today so we can see her right when we get home.”

 

Ethan nodded. “Okay. I'm sorry too.”

 

I wanted to say that none of this was his fault, that it was all me, but he suddenly wrapped his arms around me and pulled me into a hug. I figured I could save it for therapy.

 

Anyway, we made it to the venue and hung out with Kathryn and Dan in one of the dressing rooms for a while. About an hour later, I got a text that took away my happy, healed feelings.

 

Tyler.  _ “Panic.” _

 

My face must have given something away, because Ethan, who was sat next to me on the couch, nudged my arm. He asked me what was wrong while trying to see what was on my screen.

 

I quickly locked my phone and got to my feet. “It's nothing, I'll be right back.”

 

I dashed out of the dressing room, only for Ethan to follow my trail. My stomach turned, I wasn't sure what to say to him, but I couldn't break Tyler’s trust and bring my boyfriend to the bus either.

 

“What's going on?” Ethan seriously asked. “Are you going to see Tyler again?”

 

The tone in his voice made my heart ache. But I had to keep my word.

 

“I have to go,” I told him as I kept walking.

 

“I know what I saw yesterday.” He paused. “Or… I dont, actually, but I didn't like it either way! You guys spend a lot of time alone, and you're sneaking around all the time!”

 

“It's not what you think!” I called over my shoulder.

 

Thankfully, he didn't follow me out to the bus. I was still a little on edge when I got into the vehicle, but it went away as I went to help Tyler. 

 

He was hyperventilating again, sat hunched over on the sofa. I sat on the coffee table in front of him and held my hands out for him to squeeze. It was like a routine at this point, talking him down, and getting him some water.

 

“I'm sorry to keep bugging you about this,” I told him gently once it was over, “but have you told anyone else?”

 

He shook his head.

 

“So not even Mark knows? Bob and Wade? I know you've been talking to them a lot lately…”

 

“No,” Tyler said shortly. “I think I've got it under control. And I have you to help me.”

 

I sighed. “Look, I don't want to pressure you, but I can't always be here. And I thought the same thing, that I could handle my panic attacks alone. Now, I have suicide scars and I'm a high functioning alcoholic. The longer you go it alone, the worse it's gonna get.”

 

Tyler was looking down.

 

“And,” I added, “this is actually more my problem, but Ethan’s getting suspicious about us and I don't know what to tell him.”

 

As if on cure, the door to the bus opened, and Ethan’s loud footsteps sounded. Tyler sat up immediately, shaking his shoulders. Ethan walked in, breathing like he ran here.

 

“What's, what's going on here?” he asked between breaths.

 

I looked at Tyler expectantly. He stayed silent.

 

“I-Is he the one you cheated with?” Ethan asked accusingly. Then, he looked down at Tyler. “Dude, what the fuck? How could you?”

 

“No!” I snapped in disbelief. “I told you, it's not what you think it is!”

 

I turned to the man in question. He kept looking at the floor, but eventually looked up.

 

“Can we get Mark, Amy, and Kathryn in here?” he requested. “I need to tell all of them.”

 

Then I turned back to Ethan. “Can you go get them?”

 

He looked like I requested something ridiculous. I gave him really pleading eyes, which would have worked if he wasn't so mad at me. I mean, it half worked.

 

“I'll text them,” he said as he pulled his phone from his pocket. He sat at the sofa across from Tyler.

 

Within a few minutes, Mark, Amy, and Kathryn were climbing onto the bus. Each of them had a mildly confused look on their face, catching onto the crippling tension very quickly.

 

“What’s up?” asked Mark, who was looking between me, Tyler, and Ethan.

 

“He’s the one who wanted you guys,” Ethan replied as he stood, getting ready to leave.

 

“You wanna stay here for this,” I told him.

 

If I had a dollar for every tense silence I’ve experienced on this tour alone…

 

“What’s going on?” Amy asked.

 

“Tyler, what is it?” Mark sounded concerned now.

 

“Let him go at his own pace,” I gently advised.

 

“You do it,” Tyler said to me.

 

I looked down at him, mildly surprised. I mean, I was the only one who knew, but I wasn’t expecting to be the one to drop the bomb. But how could I say no? What I would have given to have someone else say the words when I was in this position.

 

“Do what?” Ethan asked, displeased.

 

I sat next to the large tree man, looking up at the group. Usually, confrontation is terrifying, but that particular fear was suddenly overridden by the need to help my friend.

 

“Tyler’s been having panic attacks since the tour started,” I announced in almost a business-like manner. “I’ve been helping him, giving him advice, talking him through the attacks. He decided that now was the time to let other people know, specifically you guys, because he could really use some support.”

 

Mark, Amy, Kathryn, and Ethan were looking as if they had been expecting something else. What that something else was, I would never know. As soon as the news sunk in, they each had similar looks of pity on their faces.

 

“How come you never said anything?” Mark asked his friend as he sat on the opposite sofa.

 

Tyler opened his mouth to say something, but then he looked at me.

 

“Do you remember how hard it was for me to talk about my panic attacks?” I asked Mark. “It’s not an easy thing to talk about. Point is, it’s out in the open now, and we all need to support our friend.”

 

“Of course we’re going to support you,” Amy said, looking at Tyler.

 

“Yeah, whatever you need, we’re here,” Kathryn added.

 

The only other person who hadn’t spoken yet was Ethan. Tyler noticed this and sat up, looking directly at him.

 

“Hey, I’m sorry for how this looked,” he said sincerely. “I asked Bella not to say anything, I didn’t intend to cause-”

 

“Don’t,” Ethan cut him off. “Don’t worry about it. I get it, it’s okay.”


	12. Chapter 12

There was another flight we had to board that night after the Atlanta show. Ethan sat with me on the plane this time, and despite falling asleep just after taking off, he held my hand. I still had to clutch a pillow to my chest with my free arm and blast music as loud as I could to drown out the airplane noises. Holding Ethan's was just a bit of extra comfort through this stressful time.

 

Between my first flight of the year, which was in March, and this current one now, I had gotten on a plane seven times. It was a new record, I was a little proud of myself. Only a little. I still felt extremely anxious on flights, and I still refused to fall asleep while in the air. I was still irrational and needy, and the desire to drink increased tenfold.

 

Distractions proved to be helpful. If the flight was during the day, Ethan would stay awake and talk to me. I usually paid for in-flight Wi-Fi so I could watch YouTube or Grey's Anatomy. (The latter stopped once I reached the plane crash episode.) However, I could only spend so much.

 

Tonight, I was listening to Demi Lovato’s newest album, and I had a piece of paper laid out in front of me. Writing notes about songs I enjoyed also helped keep my mind busy. I just wished my hands wouldn't stop shaking, I wouldn't be able to read back what I wrote later on.

 

 

That's how it usually went. It was cathartic. I also knew what I wanted to sing for my solo at the very last acoustic set.

 

~

 

_ “I'm sorry for honesty, I could not bear _

_ To lie to you, to lie with you _

_ I'm sorry for honesty, I'm well aware _

_ I'd lie to you, when I lie with you” _

 

If you've heard this song (which you should), you would wonder why I had such a hard time singing “Love Me or Leave Me.” Maybe this song meant more to me, therefore I tried harder to get it right. I mean, I had only sang it a few times, and properly rehearsed it twice, and then I was suddenly onstage. My voice was a little strained after doing the rest of the set with Mark, but I still heard a wave of cheers when I hit the high notes.

 

_ “You-ooo-ooo, don't do it for me anymore,”  _ I finished holding the note for as long as I could.

 

The sounds of the audience cheering made me want to cry, but I held it together as Mark walked back out to the stage. He cracked a couple of “who hurt you” joked, which helped diffuse the crying fit in my throat. Then, I said my goodbyes and left Mark to do his solo.

 

I started my singing endeavour by sobbing the minute I was backstage two weeks ago. Now, I was better than that. I held my head up as I calmly walked back to the green room. I thanked the backstage crew members who complimented my performance. 

 

When I actually got to the green room, Ethan attacked me with a hug. Over his shoulder, I saw Amy, Tyler, Molly, and Day shedding tears. What happened while I was gone?

 

“Who's cutting onions?” I asked with a nervous laugh.

 

“You!” Ethan replied as he pulled back. “The way you sang!”

 

A small wave of agreement came from the group. I was taken aback at the response.

 

“I'm… sorry?” I said stupidly. “I didn't mean to… make people cry…?”

 

“It was beautiful!” Amy exclaimed. “Are you kidding?”

 

After some overwhelming words of praise, Ethan pulled me out of the room. A new sense of euphoria had come over me. I absentmindedly reached for his hand as we walked down the corridor. To my surprise, Ethan shook it away.

 

“Why did you pick that song?” he asked in a tone so different from his happy one that it gave me whiplash.

 

It had occurred to me how that particular song might have sounded coming out of me, and having to be in his shoes. It didn't mean to him what it meant to me. I suddenly felt guilty. I was a terrible girlfriend.

 

“I- It was,” I stammered, my stomach dropping to my ass. “My drinking? That's how I feel… or how I want to feel about drinking… and all of my maladaptive behaviors?” I explained sheepishly. 

 

Ethan slowed his steps as the realization dawned on him. “Oh…”

 

I was still guilty. “I'm so sorry, I didn't realize how it would sound to you, I should have ran it by you first and made my intentions clear. You're not mad at me, are you?”

 

“What? No! No, of course not,” he told me. “I just, I didn't think… aahh! I didn't think of that, I'm such an idiot!”

 

We both let out nervous laughs.

 

“I would have thought the same thing,” I reassured. “Don't worry, you still do it for me.”

 

He nodded, averting eye contact while his cheeks reddened. “Good.”

 

The last show of the East coast leg was successful. We all celebrated in the hotel lobby once we returned from the venue. I couldn't really blame anyone for ordering drinks… or shots. Even Ethan snuck in a few pints as well, despite how close he was to being of the age.

 

It's a little (very) uncomfortable to be around a lot of tipsy people when you're practicing sobriety. My sponsor reminded me over text that I had the power to take myself out of the situation if need be. I was not my addiction, I was not going to resort to Satan’s Juice. But I was still in my first year of sobriety, and it was going to be hard before it would get easier.

 

For now, I had to focus on being accountable for my boyfriend, who was three beers and two shots in. That was my excuse to the crew members who didn't know about my little problem.

 

“Do a shot with us, come on!” said Courtney, one of said crew members. “You already missed the last two rounds!”

 

“Someone's gotta watch him!” I said with a laugh as I gestured to Ethan.

 

Luckily Mark, who also wasn't drinking for different reasons, was able to take the attention away from me. He always knew how to do that. “Someone will just have to take two shots!”

 

That seemed to satisfy the group.

 

“I'll do it,” Ethan offered, his words slurring a little.

 

I made a mental note to prepare a fuck ton of water and painkillers for him later.

 

Listen, Ethan is handsy with me enough as it is. Alcohol increases that tenfold. After that round, he put both arms around me, held me in a loose side hug and lied his head on my shoulder. He also tried to kiss me, but I dodged it like a bullet.

 

“Babe,” he whined, pouting at me.

 

“You taste like liquor,” I reminded him.

 

He settled for kissing my hand and then continued to rest his chin on my shoulder. I could smell his breath and boy oh boy was that an experience. I could have left at any moment, but I didn’t want to be a party pooper. I also didn’t want to leave my drunk boyfriend behind. How I survived, I don’t know. That says a lot about my life.

 

Finally, when people slowly started to clear out of the lobby, I decided to plan my escape. It was well after one in the morning, everyone was reasonably tipsy, so I collected Ethan and walked him up to our room. He was a lot slower and quieter after a few drinks, as I had learned in the past. He kept his arm around me “so people know you’re mine,” but he was actually stumbling all over the place so I had to keep him balanced. We got to our hotel room without any trouble, and after making him chug two cups of water, Ethan was asleep in minutes.

 

When I first decided to sober up, I wasn't sure I would ever be able to hang out with him and his friends without spoiling their fun again. It’s happened before after all; It’s a big reason why I had to go sober. After making that decision, I would drop Ethan off at various friend’s houses and stay out of the way. He always offered to stay with me, but I insisted he take some time to be with his other friends. Once he was gone, I’d cry in the car over the fact that it had to be this way.

 

I was still sad that I couldn't join in on the fun tonight, especially since we were celebrating the end of tour. But watching over Ethan and practically taking care of him while he had fun helped take the edge off. It definitely kept me busy. I was the permanent designated driver, the permanent safe buddy. He could black out entirely and I’d be the one to drag him to bed. I couldn't hate having that job. 

 

He takes care of me, and I was more than happy to take care of him too.


End file.
